


In My Head

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Hallucinations, Psychic Bond, Sexual Content, Soul Bond, mind possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She teeters on the edge of unconsciousness as she stands there, limbs unwilling to do more than hang at her sides, completely unwilling to do the task of cleaning herself so she can crawl into the warmth and safety of her bed.<br/>It’s when she’s in this state of in between that Lydia feels the ghost of fingertips running down her arms, warm moist lips pressing a kiss at the top of her spine, solid warmth conforming to her back. She shivers and her eyes flutter but do not open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration actually came to me for then when, coincidentally, I was in the shower. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to write this. I have a slight obsession with Pydia Soul bond. I love love LOVE it and I NEEDED this.
> 
> I own nothing, as per usual.  
> And this is unbeta'd again. So if you see any horrible mistakes please (KINDLY, NO BASHING) point them out to me.

It’s late when she flips on the bathroom lights. She squints at the abrupt brightness; eyes not adjusted from traipsing about in the middle of the night in the dense woods of the reserve yet, and flip them off, a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she’s shrouded in darkness again.

Instead of trying to turn the harsh fluorescent lights back on she steps deeper into the bathroom and flips a different switch on. The bulbs above the vanity buzz then flicker on. The lighting from them is softer, casting warm golden tones around the bathroom.

Lydia tugs the hair tie from her hair, the tension in her head easing some, lets it tumble down messily to her shoulders and tries not to think about all the dirt and leaves and possibly twigs that reside in the trusses.

She leaves a trail of muddy, dirty clothes in her wake as she makes her way to her shower once she’s toed off her flats. Another pair of shoes that she knows is a lost cause with how muddy they are and knows she’ll end up tossing them in the trash. It’s a fact that makes her blood boil with annoyance no matter how superficial. Another sign of how “pack life” is affecting her. Lydia sighs again and shakes the thought from her head. After all, she was given the option to walk away from all of it, and chose to stay. It’s something she can’t find herself to hate or regret no matter how much she wants to.

With the shower pulled back her eyes reflexively go to the tiny window. Her gaze lingers on the inky black night sky and the bright full moon that bathes her in soft silver light. It’s a comforting though and she stands there soaking it in until a shiver runs through her and she’s forced to turn on the water in hopes to fend off the cold.

Once inside she closes her eyes and stands under the two hot spray with her head bowed forward, letting the water run over sore muscles and stinging cuts and fading bruises.  

She teeters on the edge of unconsciousness as she stands there, limbs unwilling to do more than hang at her sides, completely unwilling to do the task of cleaning herself so she can crawl into the warmth and safety of her bed.

It’s when she’s in this state of in between that Lydia feels the ghost of fingertips running down her arms, warm moist lips pressing a kiss at the top of her spine, solid warmth conforming to her back. She shivers and her eyes flutter but do not open.

Large warm hands, smooth with a hint of callouses rub up and down her arms. With a small intake of breath she can just make out the scent of her body wash, then can feel the warm hands rubbing it into her skin, running along her shoulders across her collarbones, pausing to palm her heavy breasts before descending to soap her belly and hips and back.

The warmth leaves from behind her and she makes a small noise at the back of her throat only startle at a soft touch to her ankle. It’s almost enough to make her eyes snap open, but she squeezes them shut tight until she relaxes, groaning in appreciation as the hands rub firmly into her calf muscles and then higher, leaving a soapy trail in their wake.

The gently hands slowly work their way higher, to her inner thighs, making no move to makes things intimate, just washing. It still leaves her trembling and gasping as the slender fingers work and kneed the juncture of her thighs until she subconsciously spreads her stance, making more room without being told.

Hot leisure breath ghosts along her sex and Lydia tips her head back into the spray to keep from looking down. A gasp leaves her when a strong hand grips behind her knee and urges it up. She scramble to grab onto the side bar of the shower, her one leg that’s flat on the ground trembling as the hot breath comes closer. Her brows furrow at the coolness of breath being taken in, scenting her sex thoroughly, a stubbled cheek laying heavy against her thigh, the scrape of the coarse bristles ripping a moan from her before a speared tongue dips between her folds and laps at her, drinking in her taste, her scent, and leaving her gasping for breath.

Lydia is shaking by the time the tongue leaves her. The solid warmth moves behind her again and hands are everywhere at once, washing the suds that smell of sandalwood from her thoroughly. She feels fingers at her side, feels the way they linger over the soft and shiny pink gashes that mar the majority of her left side. The pinprick of nails that are too sharp to be anything less than claws against her side makes her whimper but she doesn’t try to move away from them and the hands on her make no movement to keep her still. The claws move from her side, trail upwards over her breasts, lingers on her throat then ascend into her hair.

It’s quick work; she can feel the claw tipped fingers massaging her scalp, rubbing in a neutral smelling shampoo. It feels good, always feels good, like she’s being pampered. But she knows that it’s almost over as she feels the shampoo suds run down her body, taking with them all the grit and grime from the woods.

All too soon the hands leave as the warm solidness leaves from behind her. Her eyes flutter open and she shivers as she comes back to her senses, realizing the water has turned cold and she’s shaking until the icy spray.

After turning the water off and stepping out onto the fluffy rug in front of the shower Lydia makes quick work of toweling off before heading back into her room. She doesn’t bother with clothes and simply climbs into the warm covers of her bed, curling around her pillow and just breathes in the smells of the fabric. Sandalwood, leather, and burning wood. Everything that is Peter Hale.

Her hand drifts to the scars, presses against them, wincing at the tenderness and looks out her winder where the moon continues to shine bright before gathering clouds snuff out its brilliance and bathes her room in more shadows.

Lydia knows it’ll be some time before Peter will leave the dark corners of her mind again to play again. So with her fingers stroking her scars almost fondly she closes her eyes and resigns herself to remember that he is dead, dead and buried underneath a wolfs bane laced spiral, until she falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> *twiddles thumbs* I really hope people are enjoying my work.  
> Feedback/comments/kudos are like the source of my happiness and I really appreciate them.


End file.
